


In the Court of the Dark Imperator

by Laetitia_Laetitii



Category: Runescape
Genre: Gen, Zaros - Freeform, dimension of disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6333724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laetitia_Laetitii/pseuds/Laetitia_Laetitii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Call of Loarnab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Court of the Dark Imperator

 

The first thing I could remember was looking up to see the statue. I had no knowledge of where I was, or how I had come to be there. I had opened my eyes, and found myself standing at the foot of the plinth upon which the obsidian horror crouched.

It had to be over ten feet tall, and the span of its six feathered wings was just as wide. There was something unwholesome about the proportions of its elongated limbs —something that nature alone could have never produced, without the intervention of some hideous disease or degeneracy. From the top of its emaciated ribcage stretched five sinuous necks, each supporting a head with abhorrent, mongrel features. In what little light there was, the eyes above the feelers —even in stone —seemed to burn with madness and fire.

Suddenly, I was pushed from the back by an invisible hand, and without a decision to do so, without the faintest control over my actions, I realized I was being led away along a windowless corridor. Despite the darkness, I was aware of the megalithic proportions of the space — a sense that it had not been built for human habitation — and occasionally, doorways leading deeper into the night. And all the while my captor —he was a captor, for I noticed my hands were tied —urged me on, with mocking words and jabs from some sharp weapon. The passage seemed to go on forever, until without a warning a pair of monstrous double doors swung open in front of me, and I was forced to pass through them.

For a moment the faint, discoloured light hurt my eyes. When they gradually adjusted, I saw that I had been brought to a hall of immense dimensions. The floor stretched on infinitely, covered in shimmering black marble. Shadowy galleries honeycombed the walls, and I could see the silhouettes of unknown things move in them. Far above our heads rose a cupola made of some translucent, onyx-green material. A weak, sickly glow filtered down through it, and somehow I understood that we were underground.

We were not alone in that place, either, my abductor and I. In the throng crowding around the walls I saw things that tried to look human but could not, and things that had once been human but were no more. I saw shapeless beings covered in eyes and maws, and tall, lean things wrapped up in shrouds. And all of them, from the leather-winged fiends holding humans on leashes to the nebulous masses secreting slime on the floor — all of them were watching me. As I was walked across the floor, I heard an enraged murmur rise from their malformed throats.

Towards the end of the hall stood a guard of horned, winged creatures in armour, each holding a double-bladed spear. Their faces were covered by helmets of riveted iron, and chains ran from the manacles around their wrists and ankles, shackling them to each other. As we came up to them my captor barked an order, and at once they stepped aside; the wall of flesh and metal breaking up to reveal the ruler of that nightmare court.

The reptilian abomination lay coiled on a raised dais, its squamous body bloated from unimaginable feeding. The podium was too small to contain it entirely, and the spine-covered tail extended well onto the floor, where courtiers and slaves stepped fearfully around its twitching bulk. So far, the creature’s sides had heaved as if in contented sleep, but as my guardian commanded me to halt, I saw the horror stir in front of my eyes. Unable to breathe, I watched the writhing monstrosity come out of its slumber. The serpentine form uncoiled, the twin necks straightened out, and the thing turned its heads towards me.

There were two of them, finned and draconian. The eyes — there were eight on each —blazed like dragonstones, with the dull, single-minded malice of a beast. Rivulets of steaming drool trickled from the corners of its jaws, between which I could glimpse the suggestion of needle-sharp fangs. The smell of its breath filled my nostrils, toxic and nauseating; the stench of disinterred graves and putrid cadavers; the smell of rotting meat. There was little doubt of what kind of a loathsome diet sustained it.

Then from the darkness appeared another figure, this one humanoid in outline and arrayed in long robes. But before I had a chance to look at it properly, my captor shoved me on the floor, and from the dais rang the command:

“Kneel before the Dark Imperator!”

There are shocks no heart can endure unaffected, and for a moment I thought I would lose my sanity. It was one thing to find myself in this unhallowed court where all of damnation gathered, but to hear that voice in such place made the horror complete. For even before I saw him, I knew I could recognize the speaker, and at the same time I began to understand where I was. When I raised my bowed head, it was to have my terrible suspicion was confirmed.

Apart from the unadorned robes and the minor difference in the headdress — the twin prongs having been replaced by a trident of spines in the front — nothing had changed. I would have known that long, narrow face anywhere; the sharp cheekbones, the slightly slanted eyes. The stern expression on it was one I had seen countless times, and the only thing that made it alien was the visible lack of recognition in it. When he spoke again, I realized that while I could understand the meaning, the words themselves were unknown to me.

He greeted me in a name I didn’t know, but which at the same time at once felt my own. He informed me that I had gravely abused the Imperator’s hospitality. I had been invited to the palace in the name of stabilizing the relations between our two countries, and I had taken advantage of the situation in a disgraceful manner. In short, I was a spy, and they were well aware that I had been dispatched by the Queen herself.

At this point, the beast interrupted him with a guttural growl. Immediately, my accuser turned around to reply, and it seemed he was explaining something. I could not make out any of the words, but his tone was soothing. Sing-song, as if he were speaking to a pet or a child.

“The Imperator says that the treaty is off,” he said, turning back to me. “You have violated the agreed terms in a way we cannot tolerate. Up to this point, you have been our guest. Given your actions, we henceforth have no choice but to treat you as our prisoner.” He made a move to leave the dais, but a sharp hiss from the behemoth caused him to stop in his tracks. Instead, he sat down on the tiles next to a clawed forepaw, leaning back to rest against the scaly side. The thing – I couldn’t even mentally call it by a title — relaxed visibly, and let out a long, low whine. The high-priest, if that’s what he was, continued from the floor, scratching the forepaw absent-mindedly as he spoke.

“Should you desire to insult the Imperator by pleading your innocence, let it be known that your messenger was intercepted last night as he was trying to cross the Salve. The missive he carried bore your seal. And yes, ambassador, he has already confessed.”

I felt my mouth open to speak, but it was not my voice that came out, nor did it speak in a tongue I knew. But I knew what I was saying nevertheless, telling him that I had not sent such a messenger, that the entire affair was a blatant frame-up, that it was their own shameful attempt to get out of a treaty that threatened to turn out unfavourably. What did they intend to do, I asked. Did he, or the Imperator hope for a war?

He said he did not, but that if there was a war as a result of my execution, the fault would lie with Hallowland.

As the meaning of his words sank in, I heard myself cry out in protest, calling him a liar and a murderer, telling him that the outrage would not go unpunished. He told me that this would remain to be seen. The only outrage to be punished tonight, he concluded, would be my own. And with that he turned his face away, reaching to stroke the neck closest to him. He whispered calming words in that melodious intonation, cooing and murmuring in a low tone. If the creature replied, it did not do so in a way anyone could have perceived. But when he addressed me again they both knew what was going to happen, and so did I.

“Ambassador,” he said, “you have been found guilty of espionage, and the Imperator hereby sentences you to death.”

Then I was being dragged towards the dais, struggling in vain, while my voice screamed over the cacophony of that accursed court cheering in delight. I felt the hot, cadaverous breath hit my face, and before everything went dark, the last thing I saw was Azzanadra, sitting on the floor, stroking the scaly body. His eyes never left mine.

                                                            ***

When I woke up in Sir Prysin’s spare bed, it might have been near dawn. It was hard to tell in that place, and for most of New Varrock’s inhabitants it mattered little anyway. A greenish glow from the braziers outside lit up the room, and as I lay there watching the flickering light wax and wane, I tried to think of what I had dreamed, but realized I could no longer remember.

Then I got up, and decided to head downstairs and see what I could scrape together for breakfast. I had a long day ahead of me, after all. I was going to see a man about a zombie.

 

**Author's Note:**

> When The Dimension of Disaster came out, one of the many details that intrigued me (besides Zemouregal's bedroom shackles and lacy underwear) was the idea of the Loarnab-Zaros-hybrid, The Dark Imperator, who is hinted to (in Zemouregal's notes) have possessed a Chthonian's ability to absorb the wisdom of those it ate. I got to thinking how Azzanadra, who had "squandered his potential by chaining his fate to the Dark Imperator and serving as his lapdog" would interact with the god-beast, and how such a creature would in general appear to an outsider. As for the choice in style, I just thought it would fit the subject matter.


End file.
